


That March Night

by malcyon



Series: Nights and Days [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics), Green Arrow (Comics), Red Hood/Arsenal (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics), Teen Titans - All Media Types
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Jason Todd is Robin, M/M, Protective Roy Harper, it's kinda sad whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 07:41:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20944757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malcyon/pseuds/malcyon
Summary: “You gonna call me that the whole time?”Roy laughs lightly, “What? Jaybird? Don’t like it?”Jason quickly shakes his head. “No, no, I . . . It’s fine. I like it.”*****Roy goes to the Wayne Manor to talk (yell) about Oliver to Dick. He doesn't expect to end up talking to Jason instead.





	That March Night

**Author's Note:**

> Why does everything I write turn out more angsty than I planned it to be? Can someone please explain?  
Anyway, Roy deserves more love and Robin Jason is adorable, so here ya go.
> 
> Feel free to bother me on [tumblr](https://malcyon.tumblr.com/)

Roy ignores the sting of Gotham’s winter biting his nose as he walks up the front steps of Wayne Manor, the snow crunching behind him as his cab drives away. He shivers and looks up.

The Manor is nothing like home. It sits elegantly on top of a low hill, almost like a palace, unafraid of what the city only a couple of miles away could do to it. The Queen Mansion isn’t like that at all. Vast gardens and tall trees practically hide it from view, allowing a sense of secrecy. Roy used to spend hours following Oliver around in those trees, trying to line up the perfect shot with a toy bow and arrow as his mentor pretended not to notice him on the ground below and—

_ No_, he’s _ not _going to think about Ollie. Roy whips his gaze forward, jaw tightening.

The Manor is nothing like home, and he’s never been so thankful for that as he is now. 

He climbs the steps and punches the ridiculously ornate doorbell with a freezing finger. Then he waits, breath frosting in the air, wishing he’d grabbed an actual jacket when he’d stormed out and zeta-beamed over. 

How the hell could a city be so cold in fucking _ March_?

One of the doors opens, and Alfred raises an eyebrow as Roy rushes in, leaving trails of mush behind him. “Sorry,” he manages, trying to rub some feeling back into his hands. The butler looks him over, taking in the rumpled sweatshirt, jeans, and snowy boots before shaking his head with something that isn’t quite exasperation but isn’t quite amusement either.

“Master Richard isn’t at the house at this time, Mr. Harper.” 

Shit. _ Of course_, the asshole isn’t here yet; it’s not like Dick promised he would be or anything when Roy had called only _ ten fucking minutes ago_. 

He’s about to mutter out some excuse to leave; maybe apologize for the slush on the carpet too, since Alfred lays a firm hand on his shoulder in the way that usually precedes a scolding. He tenses with the contact, but then the old man says, “However, perhaps you would like something to drink?” 

Oh.

Roy doesn't know how to respond to that, can only nod as Alfred smiles at him with a fondness that he hasn’t seen from anyone in a while. The butler drops his hand and begins to lead the way to the kitchen, even though Roy’s been in the house plenty of times before to know exactly where it is. Roy follows cautiously and prays that he isn’t leaving a trail of snowy footprints in his wake.

After several seconds of silence, Alfred gives him a knowing side-eye, finally asking, “May I ask what brought you here tonight?”

Roy looks down at his muddy boots. “Just another stupid fight. Nothing new.”

Because there isn’t any point lying to Alfred; the man knows him too well by now. And it was a stupid fight: Oliver going on about recklessness when he’s hardly even _ there _ to _ see _if Roy’s being an idiot. A fact that Roy was all too glad making known. And, like usual, it escalated, voices rising until he stomped out as Oliver yelled after him.

Calling Dick had been an impulse decision. Because usually he’d go to Donna, whine as she kissed his wounds before telling him that he was an idiot and to go fix his damn problems like an adult. Like any of their eighteen-year-old asses can be considered adults. Like any of them actually know what they're doing. 

But he doesn’t want his girlfriend’s logic and sensibility. He wants to rant to somebody who can _ understand_, and who else is better for that than Dick “Daddy Issues” Grayson. Dick, who’s been visiting the Manor daily while the Big Bad Bat is off-world on some mission. 

Except Dick isn’t here.

Fantastic.

Alfred gives him a forlorn look, dragging Roy back into the present. 

“Arguments can tear families apart, Mr. Harper. I’ve seen it happen here. I’d rather not see it happen to you.”

The way he says that makes something _ ache _in Roy’s chest, so he glances away and mutters, “Do you know when Dick is gonna be back?” 

The butler doesn’t seem ruffled by Roy’s callous change in topic, not that he's ruffled by much, and continues, “He was out visiting Ms. Anders in New York, I believe.” Fuck, he’s going to be waiting _ forever _if Dick is with Kory. “However, he said that he would be back tonight to spend time with Master Jason.”

Roy nearly skips a step.

He hadn’t even thought about _ Jason _being here. Not that it’s a bad thing it’s just . . . He hadn’t even thought about it. 

They aren’t too close, had held mindless conversations whenever Dick had brought the Boy Wonder up to the Titans’ Tower, sparred together on several occasions. Though Roy doubts that he'll ever live down the time the new Robin had saved his ass when he had followed a case to Gotham and gotten in over his head; Jason still seems pretty damn smug about it. Still, the kid’s talented definitely, but from what Roy’s seen, there’s a heaviness on Jason’s shoulders that the former Boy Wonder had never had. Something rough around the edges. Eyes that were a little too sharp and hits that could land a little too hard. Hell, Dick had mentioned before that Jason tends to “use excessive force” on criminals and is less forgiving than any of Batman’s other partners.

But Roy likes him. Jason is smart, quick with puzzles and even quicker with words. And, despite the cocky attitude he puts on, there’s a shyness that appears whenever any of the Titans talks to him.

It’s kinda cute, really.

Alfred turns into the kitchen, and Roy lets himself stop in the doorway to soak up the warmth of the room. He closes his eyes and rests his head on the doorframe, hears Alfred shuffle through the cabinets. He takes in a shaky breath and the world fades away.

God, he’s _ tired_.

He must have dozed off because it’s the sound of chopping that makes him blink back to life. Alfred is standing by the counter, a small pile of chocolate pieces collecting on his cutting board as he goes through a massive slab of the stuff. Roy starts, “Oh, you don’t have to—”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mr. Harper. Hot chocolate is the best remedy for a cold night, and, besides, I was feeling rather chilly myself earlier.”

Roy’s throat tightens. “Thanks.”

“Of course. Please have a seat.”

He hesitates, then moves to the kitchen island and pulls out one of the stools from beneath it, sitting quietly. Alfred finishes cutting, puts the pieces into a double boiler on the stove, and cranks up the heat. Roy watches and tries not to fall asleep again as the scent of melting chocolate fills the air. Alfred hums from around the sink, and, _fuck it_, Roy lets himself bury his head in his arms and shut his eyes.

The butler can shake him awake later.

Then he hears the sound of padded footsteps, followed by, “Hey, Alf, Bruce just called; he has some new information for you to put into—_oh_.” Roy turns around in his seat to see _ Jason_, clad in flannel pajama pants and a Wonder Woman sweatshirt. 

Roy’s mouth quirks with a smile.

Jason stares back at him with big eyes, suddenly seeming very unsure and out of his depth. “Am I—uh, interrupting anything, or . . . ?”

Alfred shakes his head as he dries his hands with a dishtowel. “Not at all, Master Jason. What is it?”

Jason looks away from him, putting his hands in his pockets. Roy watches the kid bite his lip and shift his weight from foot to foot as if neither are comfortable to settle on. “Bruce has a couple of files on the Falcone case he wants you to sort through and organize. But since you’re busy, I can take care of it.” 

“There’s no need, I’ll do that if you finish with the hot chocolate here.” Roy isn't sure, but there’s almost a smugness to Alfred’s words.

Jason freezes, and his eyes flick to him—almost too quick for Roy to catch it—before going back to the old man. “I . . . Yeah, okay. The files are by the Computer, next to that stuff about Scarecrow’s new toxin.” Alfred dips his head and walks out, steps crisp on the hardwood, and Roy _ swears _ that he sees the tiniest curl of a smile on the butler’s lips. 

Roy stares after him because he must have missed an inside joke or something—

Jason clears his throat, once again shifting on his feet as Roy’s eyes snap back to him. He tilts his head, brow furrowing. Was Jason that tall the last time Roy saw him? Jesus, the kid is already nearly Dick’s height, at this rate, he’ll probably be taller than Roy.

And bigger too. Jason is solid, certainly not as flexible or as fast as his adopted brother, but will make up for it in brute strength. It’s a little strange how similar the two look, but up close, the differences are obvious. Besides build, Jason is paler than Dick’s racially toned skin, making the blush on his cheeks stand out a hell of a lot more now that Roy’s noticing it. He frowns.

“You okay, kid? You seem a little flushed, don’t have a fever, do you?” He stands, walking over to Jason and pressing a hand to the boy’s forehead in concern, something Donna always does whenever somebody is feeling sick. 

God, next he’ll be mother-henning over the kid.

But before he can move his hand away, Jason takes a quick step back, looking even pinker. “I’m fine, thanks. Just gonna grab the milk.” He darts past Roy, shoulders stiff. Roy blinks, but only shrugs and sits back down at the counter because _ okay then_. Jason keeps his back to him as he pours the milk into the chocolate mixture, the tension in his body making Roy’s muscles ache.

The silence begins to tick by. Roy's fingers start to tap on the counter. 

Should he talk? He feels like he should talk. Roy racks his brain, trying to remember anything Dick had said about the kid. 

He mentioned getting books for Jason around Christmas, classic novels. Roy has never been a big fan of those, he prefers non-fiction and instruction manuals, facts. Like that stuff on engineering Ollie and Dinah had given him for his birthday last year— 

_ No_, he can’t think about Oliver right now. He _ won’t_. And he shoves those memories down, down, down, until he can pretend they never happened. 

It takes a few seconds before Roy realizes that he’s been clenching his fist so hard his fingernails have left sharp, angry indents in his palms. He forces himself to lay his hands flat on the counter. Takes a breath.

Fuck, he needs a vacation from this shit.

He looks up, just as Jason turns around. The red is gone from his face, replaced with a relaxed focus as he walks from cabinet to cabinet, finding and throwing different spices into the pot. He doesn’t even need to stop and read the labels; seemingly knowing exactly what he’s doing. Roy watches, a little mesmerized by the surety of Jason’s movements. By the kid’s soft expression and the slight furrow of his brows as he concentrates.

Roy almost regrets it when he interrupts the other boy’s tranquility by asking, “Do you like to cook?”

Jason freezes, hand hovering over the hot chocolate, and, _ yeah_, Roy should have kept his mouth closed going by the sudden apprehension on Jason’s face. Like Roy is going to make fun of him. Finally, the kid says, “Uh . . . Yeah, when I get the chance.” 

Jason doesn’t continue, which should probably be Roy’s cue to just shut up, but he’ll be damned if he’s going to sit in awkward silence until Dick gets here.

“Why?” He’s honestly a bit curious. Jason doesn’t seem the type to spend time in the kitchen, and Dick sure as hell barely steps into one. 

The kid stares at him cautiously, as if he’s waiting for Roy to insult him. For the other shoe to drop. It almost hurts that Jason thinks he would do that, and Roy feels the familiar sensation of bitterness as it swells in his chest. He pushes it away and forces himself to come to the sad fact that he isn't the only one in the room with trust issues.

Roy leans forward, propping his head up with a fist and putting an interested smile on his face. Jason looks away, tips of his ears pink. Slowly, he says, “We never had a lot of food when I was a kid, so . . . I don’t know, It’s nice getting to create something and then give it to other people to make them happy. Feels good.” Jason wrinkles his nose. “That sounds dumb.” 

Roy chuckles and shakes his head. “It’s not dumb, it’s. . . It’s kinda great, actually.”

Jason blinks, and then his face breaks into a smile. It’s a nice smile, one that Roy hasn’t seen before. “Plus, it’s funny to watch Dick try and help when all he can do is set _ water _on fire.” He snickers and Jason cocks his head, brows coming together. “I have no idea when he’s gonna be back if you need to talk to him.”

Roy shrugs, suddenly not minding his friend’s absence as much. “He was with Kory last I heard,” he says, and Jason makes a _ face_. 

“You might be here for a while then.”

He snorts, and that nice smile appears on Jason’s lips again. “Yeah, they’re disgusting.”

Jason nods in agreement, then frowns. “What did you need to talk about anyway?” Roy freezes, reality dousing him like ice water. The kid stills, eyes darting down as he shoves his hands in his pockets. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have—“ 

“No, no, it’s okay. Not like it’s a big secret or anything,” Roy mutters, running a hand through his hair. Maybe he should grow it out; perhaps that would get Oliver’s attention. “Ollie and I had a fight, needed to rant about it to somebody.”

He looks up at the ceiling, mind swirling tiredly and sourly. _ God_, maybe he should leave, go to Dinah’s place, fuck waiting for Dick—

“You can rant to me if you want.” Roy blinks, and Jason looks away, almost managing to shrug like he couldn’t care less. But there’s an honest_ sincerity _when the kid murmurs, “I—uh—I know I’m not Dick or any of your other teammates, but I’ll listen. If you ever want to talk or anything . . .”

Roy goes still, gazing at the other boy silently.

He isn't the type to 'talk' about his feelings, and if he ever does, it's after downing copious amounts of alcohol.

The team knows that, knows not to bring up Oliver when Roy stomps into the tower eyes blazing. Knows to just let Donna speak to him before approaching. Knows, if Donna's not there, to let Dick or Wally or even Garth follow him into the gym and spar with him for hours just so he doesn't have to _ talk _about it.

Even then, it took years for him to fully open up to the original team. And as of now, Roy would rather stew in anger than share his emotions with Kory or Raven or Vic or, God forbid, _ Gar. _ He knows it's not fair to keep himself so locked up when they've practically laid out their darkest secrets to the whole team, but he just can't do it. But now there's Jason.

Jason, who he hardly knows, with his too-big sweatshirt and clever mouth and, before he can think about it, Roy's speaking. 

“Well, then. Buckle up, Jaybird. You ready to talk shit about father figures?”

Jason stares at him for a second, long enough for Roy to start believing that he’ll back out, but then a smile creeps across his face. “You gonna call me that the whole time?”

Roy laughs lightly, “What? Jaybird? Don’t like it?”

Jason quickly shakes his head. “No, no, I . . . It’s fine. I like it. Just didn't think you'd keep calling me that after I saved your ass, is all.” 

"Never gonna let me forget about that, huh?" Roy groans, but his grin doesn't dim. The kid takes two mugs from a cabinet and pours them both some hot chocolate.

"You were surrounded by a bunch of drug dealing baseball players, what kind of fucking situation even is that?" Roy shrugs hopelessly and doesn't answer, only watches curiously as Jason grabs some whipped cream from the fridge, topping off the drinks along with a bit of cinnamon. “So, Harper—“ Jason slides Roy a cup and rests his elbows on the kitchen island, leaning towards him. His eyes are either green or blue, Roy can’t figure out which—“let’s talk shit.”

Roy smiles and takes a sip from his mug. The chocolate and spices dance through his mouth, and he can feel himself relax for the first time in God knows how long. The glow of the kitchen seeps through his skin, and his throat tightens. This is what a home should _ be _like. 

Jason watches him, waiting patiently. Roy takes a breath and begins.

It starts with Oliver, his needling over Roy’s every mistake before taking off again for a meeting or a mission or _ anywhere _where Roy can’t go. They don’t even talk that much anymore, not that they did before, but still. Roy must have messed up, did something wrong that made Oliver disappointed enough that he doesn’t want to be around him. 

Saying that out loud stings, or maybe it burns, deep in his chest.

Because what did he do _ wrong?_ Dinah hasn’t said anything, but she’s been busy lately with the League, and he hasn’t gotten to actually see her in weeks. And Hal had popped in not too long ago, but the Green Lantern couldn't exactly hang around to go on patrol and listen to Roy's concerns. Still, Roy's sure that somebody would call him out if he had _ really _fucked up. Not Oliver, but somebody.

Somebody has to care, right? 

Jason is a good listener, doesn’t interrupt once, only watches him with eyes that _ get it _ . He lets Roy curse and ramble, and by the end, Roy’s shoulders feel lighter than air. He’s even smiling as Jason snorts at his impression of Oliver’s ‘_You should so definitely be disappointed in yourself even though I did that exact same dumbass thing less than a minute ago_’ speech that Roy's heard enough times that he's stopped keeping count.

He finishes with several obscene hand gestures that make Jason snicker and then slumps back into his seat, taking a deep sip from his mug. Jason hums from across the counter, rubbing at the dark circles under his eyes, and Roy frowns.

Being Oliver’s partner can suck ass sometimes, but at least he’s not _ Batman_. Gotham is one fucked up piece of work, and it takes a certain kind of crazy to be able to live there and not go insane. Bruce has seen a lot of shit, everyone who picks up the mask has, but sometimes Roy can’t help but wonder what it was that made the man so hard on his sons.

The logical part of Roy’s brain reminds him that it's because he _ cares_. 

Dick would probably punch that part of him in the face.

And Bruce’s standards were high even when Dick was Robin. But Jason isn’t Dick, hell, Roy can see that, and he hardly knows the kid. And even _ he’s _noticing how Jason is fraying at the edges; how sometimes his smiles don’t seem to reach his eyes.

Maybe Roy isn’t the only one who needs to be asked if he’s okay.

He opens his mouth to do just that, but Jason interrupts him with an easy grin and says, “So, besides yelling at Oliver, what else do you like to do?”

The question Roy’s about to ask is pushed aside, and he blinks in surprise, trying to come up with an answer. “Uh. I’ve been working on these designs for some new trick arrows, they—”

Jason glances up from where he’d been tracing mindless patterns on the counter. There’s a spark of curiosity in his teal eyes, and whatever Roy was saying turns to puffs of smoke in his brain. “You create that stuff? Like, you build weapons and shit?” He nods, a little taken aback because nobody’s really asked him about this before. Jason grins at him, wide and beaming. “That is _ so _cool.”

Roy shrugs, attempting to ignore the heat spreading across the back of his neck. He rubs at it, trying and failing to look away from the genuine interest on Jason’s face. “Yeah, uh, I like making stuff. I’m working on this sonic arrow right now, trying to mimic Dinah’s scream. But I can’t quite get the sound waves to resonate from the shaft the right way and—“

It’s obvious that the kid doesn’t wholly understand what Roy is talking about. Still, he interrupts to ask questions and actually seems _ interested _ in what Roy’s saying. Not just nodding and zoning out like most people do, and seriously _ why _ Dick doesn’t hang out with Jason more instead of sulking around the Tower.

_ Sulking _ might be a bit too harsh, but still.

Jason has just finished muttering about Bruce’s stupid double standards on saying names in the field when Roy’s phone rings in his pocket. He pulls it out and flashes the screen to Jason, who only rolls his eyes when he sees the caller. Roy hits accept and holds the phone up to his ear. 

“_Okay, I know I’ve left you hanging at the Manor for over ten minutes, but—_”

“Twenty-five, actually.”

“_But I’m going to be there in twenty so—_”

“So, you’ve actually left me here for forty-five minutes.”

There are several seconds of silence as Dick goes quiet. Jason raises his brows, and Roy shrugs in response, an amused grin spreading across his face. Dick sighs, low and nearly annoyed. “_Kory and I had a fight._”

The grin slides away, and Roy straightens up. “Again? Shit, man.”

“_Yeah. _ ” he trails off then continues, “_You tell me about Oliver and I tell you about this? I know where the key to Bruce’s liquor cabinet is; we can get drunk._”

Roy hesitates. He isn’t angry anymore, just . . . Happy might not be the right word, but with the taste of chocolate on his tongue and the sight of Jason playing with the strings of his Wonder Woman sweatshirt in front of him . . . It’s the only thing that explains the weird warmth in his chest. Plus, getting wasted to deal with Oliver's shitty parenting skills won't be worth the hangover in the morning. He shrugs even though Dick can't see him.

“Actually, I’ve been talking to Jason about it.”

The other boy’s head shoots up, eyes wide, and Roy hears Dick from the other end go, “_Jason?_”

He smiles and flicks a piece of leftover chocolate at the kid, who scrunches up his nose in response. “Yeah, he and Alfred made some hot chocolate too, if you want. Probably the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” Jason rubs the back of his head at that, cheeks turning pink.

There’s a small laugh from over the phone. “_They . . . Yeah, that sounds really nice, actually._”

“Alright, see you in twenty.”

“_See you._” Roy hangs up, tucks his phone in his back pocket as Jason rubs his thumb self-consciously on the counter. Neither of them say anything for a moment, an almost comfortable silence settling between them. 

Jason looks down at his socks.

“Do you think . . .” His voice grows quiet, and Roy sets his hot chocolate on the island, a bad feeling growing in his stomach at the kid’s tone. Jason doesn’t continue; only keeps staring at his feet. 

Roy’s fingers begin to tap against the counter anxiously.

"Yeah, Jaybird?”

Jason looks up at the nickname, that ever-present blush appearing on his cheeks again. It takes more willpower than Roy wants to admit to focus on what the boy says next instead of staring at his eyes.

“Do you think that Bruce will . . . make me quit being Robin?”

Roy blinks. 

_ The fuck? _

“I’m sorry, _ what? _ Why the hell would he do that?” Jason winces, and Roy immediately quiets and clenches his fists instead. He tries his best to push the initial _ what the fuck _tone out of his voice as he continues lowly, “Jay, where did that thought come from?”

Jason swallows, shoulders hunching like he wants to disappear into the floorboards. “Forget it. It’s nothing.”

“Fuck that.” Roy walks around the island and leans against the wall opposite of Jason, eyes beginning to flash. “What made you think he’d do that?” The kid doesn’t answer, and Roy’s gaze narrows. “Did Bruce say something? I swear to God, he was such an asshole with the whole falling out thing with Dick I wouldn’t be surprised if he—”

“He doesn’t trust me! The guy _ fell_, I didn't—” 

Jason stops, his outburst echoing on the kitchen walls.

Roy stills and his brow furrows in confusion. Jason is looking down again, his face is pale like he’s about to collapse. Roy takes a step forward. “Jay?”

The other boy doesn’t move; only takes a deep, shuddering breath. “I know that I fuck up sometimes, alright. I _ know _that. I know that Bruce doesn’t trust me like he trusted Dick, and that’s okay, I get it.” 

_ No, it is most certainly _ not _ okay. _

“And he was already always fuckin' telling me, ‘_I expect more from you,' _and ‘_Don’t hit that hard, Robin_,’ and I’m _ trying _ and he _ doesn’t care_, because I won’t _ ever _ be good enough for him. And I _ know that_. But I never thought—” Roy’s mouth goes very dry as he notices that Jason is actually shaking, trying to keep it together. He's about to reach out when Jason takes a quick breath and continues, “Never thought that he’d think I would—”

The kid cuts himself off again, turning away and biting his thumb. Roy moves on instinct to put a hand on his shoulder, make Jason face him. It takes everything to not punch the wall behind him when he finally fully sees Jason's expression.

He looks _ broken. _Gaze darting over Roy's face and muscles rigid as stone, palm pressed against his mouth like he's trying to hold in the words.

Roy rests both of his hands on Jason’s shoulders and squeezes him gently. “What happened, Jay?”

Jason stares up at him, eyes desperate. “You have to believe me, Roy. You _ have to_. I—There was this guy, Felipe Garzonas, the other night, okay? B and I had been tracking him for a while and, shit, we even walked in on him _ hurting _this girl. Kept bringing him to the cops, but they didn’t do anything. Said there wasn’t enough evidence or some kind of bullshit like that. And because of him, she . . . she _killed herself_."

“So I—I went to his apartment,” Jason whispers, teeth grinding together. “Was hopin’ to find something on him while Bruce was busy with the police. And I saw him, just—drinking liquor on his damn balcony like he hadn’t done _ anything wrong_. And I was so angry, but, Roy, I wouldn’t—The guy fell, I . . .” Jason stops, breaks out of Roy’s gentle grip and presses his lips firmly together. 

“Jaybird, _ Jason_, I believe you,” Roy tells him softly. “I believe you, I swear.” 

Jason shakes his head sourly. “Bruce doesn’t. He thinks I pushed—” He shuts his eyes tightly—“I wouldn’t. I told him that. I _ told him_, but he benched me. He actually thinks that I—”

Roy is moving before he can even think about it, pulling Jason against his chest and letting the boy rest his forehead against the crook of Roy’s shoulder. Jason isn’t even crying, just shaking, still holding his hand up to his mouth as Roy murmurs into his hair, “Hey, hey. I got you, okay? I got you.”

Jason breathes against Roy’s neck, “I haven’t told Dick. I don’t want him to look at me like . . . Like Bruce did. Don’t want to disappoint him too.”

Something inside Roy _ breaks_, and he pulls away, makes sure that Jason is looking him in the eyes. “Hey, you are _ not _a disappointment.” 

Jason laughs, low and bitter, “That’s bullshit, and you know it, Harper.” His eyes suddenly spark, and Roy almost takes a step back. “Besides, what the fuck do _ you _ know? You’re a damn _ Titan_, you’re not . . .”

A suffocating silence fills the room, heavy and rotten.

The back of Roy's throat burns when he manages, “What do I know? You’ve been listening to me for the past half hour, right?”

Jason freezes, his gaze dropping to the floor. “I—Shit, man, I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

“Jason.” The kid looks up at him, face flushed and eyes red. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not. I . . .”

“Hey.” Roy places his hands back on the kid’s shoulders. “I said it’s okay, didn’t I?” Jason stares at him for a moment before hesitantly nodding. 

Roy drops his hands and hops up on to one of the bar stools, leaning over to grab his mug across the island. He takes a deep swig like he’s drinking vodka instead of hot cocoa, and runs through the words in his head. 

Jason watches him incredulously. Roy sighs.

“Alright, I’m only saying this once, so pay attention.” He holds up a finger. “Bruce is an asshole. He’s an asshole who thinks he’s always right and who would probably rather dive off of the Wayne Tower instead of talk about his feelings. He’s also an asshole who loves you.” Jason snorts, and Roy shakes his head. “No, I'm serious. You’re his son; even if you think you’re just a replacement for Dick, you’re his son, Jay.”

“But Dick is—”

“You’re not Dick.”

That shuts the kid up, makes him blink up at Roy like he isn’t seeing him quite right. Roy shrugs, feeling a little self-conscious under Jason’s stare. “Well, you’re not. You’re nothing like him, and that’s completely fine. Great even.” Roy thinks of Dick’s ever-charming smile and his ability to sweep anyone off their feet in a matter of seconds. He shakes his head. “Honestly, the world only needs one Dick Grayson anyway.”

He grins, sliding off the stool to ruffle Jason’s hair. “Besides,_ I _think you’re pretty awesome. And the rest of the team does, too. You’re smart and good in a fight. You even helped us with that Switzerland peace meeting; hell, I probably would have _died_ if you hadn’t been there to watch my back, Jaybird. And, shit, I haven't even _brought up_ that thing with the crazy baseball guys in Gotham stadium, or the _other thing_ in Zandia that went down."

He nudges Jason with his arm, eyes crinkling with a smile. “So what if you disappoint Bruce? You’ve got _ us _ now. And if the others don't want you, then, hell, _ I _do. So there,” Roy finishes, beaming broadly while Jason stares at him, mouth parted and eyes round. That blush is back, going all the way up to the kid’s ears and making the blue-green of his irises stand out even more. 

After several seconds of silence, Roy cocks his head uncertainly. “You . . . uh, good there, Jay?”

Jason starts, shaking his head like he’s clearing out cobwebs. “Um . . . Yeah, yeah, sorry. I just wasn’t expecting . . . that.”

Roy laughs, rubbing the back of his neck while shrugging awkwardly. God, he’s not good with emotions. “Hey, any of the others would have said the same.”

"No, they wouldn’t, but . . . Thank you, for that, it . . .” Jason's voice tapers off and he's still staring at Roy as if he'd just found the answer to an extremely complicated case.

Roy shrugs again. “Hey, you just listened to me rant about Oliver for the last half hour, the least I can do is—”

He isn’t expecting it. 

Isn’t expecting Jason to step forward, one of his hands curling into the fabric of Roy’s sweatshirt while the other cups his cheek. Isn’t expecting him to hesitate just for a second, eyes darting from Roy’s wide stare to his lips before leaning in. Isn’t expecting Jason to press his mouth against his, kissing him in a way that’s gentle and warm and surprisingly soft.

He certainly isn’t expecting himself to kiss back.

His hands bunch into Jason’s dumb Wonder Woman shirt, drawing him closer. The other boy’s mouth parts with a gasp and a shiver and Roy can taste the cinnamon at the corners of Jason’s lips. He instinctively reaches up to grip black curls and Jason isn't that bad of a kisser, uncertain, maybe, but he's getting the hang of it; letting Roy take control and tilting his head just the right way so that Roy can—

Jason moves forwards, making Roy stumble back into the kitchen island, Jason falling against his chest. And Jason laughs into him, quiet and breathless, before crushing their mouths together. The boy rests his arms over Roy's shoulders, fingers tangling in his hair as Roy smooths his palms along Jason’s waist, feeling him shudder again under his touch.

He brushes his tongue against Jason’s mouth, and Jason opens for him immediately; the taste of hot chocolate becoming strong enough that Roy is sure he could get drunk off of it alone. Jason makes another noise, something between a sigh and a moan and—

—And he’s kissing Dick’s _ little brother_. Dick’s _ fifteen-year-old _ brother. _ Dick_, who is going to be here any second and will _ actually kill him _ if he sees this. Unless Bruce beats him to it. And Donna, fuck, how could he forget about _ Donna_.

Roy isn’t sure if reality hits him or Jason first.

He lets go of the kid and stumbles a half-step away, heart stopping in horror as his actions catch up to him. As Jason jumps back into the wall behind him like Roy is on _ fire _. As a sudden silence fills the air, settling heavily onto his shoulders until it feels like it's crushing him. They stare at each other, panting, and Roy hates the part of him that notices that Jason’s mouth is red and wet and that he’s flushed head to toe. 

Jason brings his fingers to his lips, touching them like what had just happened had been in a dream, and he has to make sure it was real. “I . . . We . . . Shit, I didn’t think . . .”

His voice trails off, and Roy swallows numbly. He feels like the ground is shifting under his feet as he prepares for the most awkward talk in his life about why they can’t ever do or mention this again. “Jason—”

“Hey, Roy, you here?”

Dick’s voice explodes through the tense quiet like a bomb, and Roy whips around, brain trying to come up with _ anything _to say. Desperately he looks behind him, to beg through eye contact to not say something that could give them away, but . . . Jason is gone.

Like he had never even been there in the first place.

Fuck.

Roy is still staring blankly when Dick enters the room, shrugging off his winter coat. “Hey, I know you said that Alfred and Jay made some hot chocolate, but I grabbed the key to the liquor cabinet anyway because I _ can’t _be completely sober when I tell you what—” Dick stops, voice turning concerned when he sees the look on Roy’s face. “You okay, man?”

Roy opens his mouth. Closes it. The taste of hot chocolate and cinnamon turns to ash in his mouth. Alcohol sounds really, really good all of a sudden. 

He smiles, his chest feeling like someone had scraped out an important part of him with a knife. “I’m fine, just really need to be drunk when I tell you about this _ bullshit _Ollie said to me.”

Dick makes an understanding noise, wrapping an arm around Roy’s shoulders as he leads them out of the kitchen. Away from the gentle lights and the smell of chocolate and the way Jason’s lips had felt against his, soft and warm.

He touches his fingertips to his mouth. Dick looks at him. “Roy, really, you seem kind of out of it, are you sure—”

“I’m fine, honest.” He risks a glance back, wondering if he could maybe catch a glimpse of Jason in his Wonder Woman sweatshirt, eyes tired and broken and _ hopeful_. “Just thinking.”

Dick laughs, “Well, don’t do too much of that tonight.”

Roy forces another grin, still feeling the ghost of Jason’s lips tracing his mouth. 

“When do I ever?”


End file.
